It was a new stage of life, this sitting around, doing what Greyson wanted, and helping out others, basically by choice instead of having such a regimented lifestyle. When he was in the military, as a Navy SEAL no less, his life had consisted of training, missions, more training, more fitness, and more missions. After the accident that ruined his back, damaged his shoulder, and took off part of his foot, his life had seemed like it was so much the same—and yet so different.
Because it was still all laid out for him. To therapy, to the doctors, more tests, more physical fitness, more of everything, with everything on a schedule. Since he’d been released, his back more or less as good as it would get, he just needed more strengthening. His shoulder was functional, not pretty, but who said that was even part of his life anymore?
He had learned to walk with just half of the one foot. It had been harder than he thought. Who knew? But still, he was better off than so many of the other guys.
He lifted his coffee mug and stretched out along the back of Geir’s house. They’d been working on building decks on a bunch of the guys’ places. And really, Greyson enjoyed nothing more than the camaraderie of being here, the sense of belonging, but without the pressure to do anything. He was living off his benefits at the moment, while he tried to assess what the hell he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
He had no easy answer. In fact, there were no easy answers. The only thing he really couldn’t do would be heavy construction labor, but not much else held him back. He’d been a trainer within the military, so management might be something he could do. But he didn’t really want anything to do with that kind of pressure, with all the stress.
He loved animals and had worked briefly with the K9s, but he had wanted a much more personal relationship with the animals than he’d been allowed to have. He’d seen various animal rescue nonprofits that interested him, but not a lot of money was to be made in that field. He didn’t need a lot to live on, and his job satisfaction—his sense of purpose—mattered more at this stage of his life.
When Geir walked out and sat down beside him, Greyson looked over and said, “It’s a nice deal you’ve got going here.”
Geir nodded slowly. “It was a long time coming,” he said. “Now we’ve got in reality what we created in theory, and I’m glad to see it happening day by day.”
Greyson didn’t say anything, just sipped his coffee.
“What do you want for your future?” Geir asked.
Greyson shrugged. “Something different than the military. Something more peaceful but still helping out, I guess. But without the stress, without the schedule, without the chaos.”
Geir nodded. “You know what? Not too many people would understand that.”
“Well, I sure as hell hope some would. After the military, I’m realizing just how much of my life was ordered around.” He shook his head. “I want to stop and smell the roses a little more.”
Geir grinned. “You just need a wife for that.”
“Is that what helped you?”
Geir thought about it, then nodded. “Having that other perspective, and having the guys too, as we decided what we wanted to do moving forward. As you know, all of us having physical disabilities, that made the world look at us differently.” He shook his head. “It does make you reassess.”
“It does,” Greyson said. “How do you feel about animals?”
“I love them,” he said with a smile.
“I was just thinking that it’s too bad I can’t set up a rescue, but they don’t make any money so—”
“What kind of rescue?”
He looked at Geir in surprise, hearing his tone of voice. “I don’t know. I’m particularly drawn to dogs, but I’m a cat guy too,” he said with a quirk of his lips.
“Interesting.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you have something going on in the back of your head?”
“We’ve been working on the K9 files,” he said. “We’ve had a really good success rate, but this next one? We don’t have a whole lot of information on it.”
“What are the K9 files?”
Greyson listened while Geir explained about the War Dog division shutting down part of the department, and a bunch of these dogs were lost in the system.
“Those dogs dedicated their lives to their training,” Greyson said. “They certainly gave the best years of their physical life, and they deserve to have a decent ending to it.”
“Which is why we agreed to help,” Geir said. “The one we need to work on now is Kona. A female Malinois-shepherd cross who was shipped to Denver but somehow ended up in Hawaii.”
“That doesn’t even compute,” Greyson said, staring at him in surprise.
“Right?” Geir shook his head. “Hard to understand in today’s digital tracking world.”
“So is she being shipped back to Denver?”
“No. She was picked up and supposed to go to a temporary shelter for a few nights, until we could arrange the return shipping, but somebody, and I’ll say somebody with a question mark here, somebody stole her from there.”
“Well, that could be a good thing,” Greyson said. “A lot of people don’t agree with shelters. Maybe they took her home to give her a safe place to be.”
“Well, this was a rescue. Kona had her own run, and she should have been just fine there,” Geir said. “What we can’t do is let it go. We need to know that whoever stole the dog is looking after her and that the dog will have the best life possible.”
“What about legalities in this one?”
“Somebody was lined up for adoption but out of Denver. We didn’t have anybody in Hawaii.”
“So, if I find the dog and confirm that she’s in a good home, am I supposed to rip her away and send her to Denver?”
Geir thought about that for a long moment as he studied his coffee cup. “No,” he said. “I think the baseline here is that we do whatever is in the best interests of the dog.”
“So, find the dog, track down whoever stole Kona, figure out what they’re doing with her, and if she will be okay?” Greyson looked around at the yard. He had spent the last few days working on a deck back here. “Hawaii could be good.”
Geir looked at him and smiled. “Any connection?”
“My grandparents actually,” he said immediately. “They used to live in New York, and then, one day, it’s like they snapped. They sold everything and moved to Hawaii.”
“Hey, I’m not sure that’s such a bad idea,” he said, “but honestly? If you end up in one of the big cities on the islands, I’m not sure there’s that much difference.”
“They’re on one of the outer islands, I believe,” he said. “It might be time to find out.”
“Exactly.”
“Where did the dog disappear from?”
“Well, it was flown in and delivered to the local shelter. That’s the last-known location we have.”
He nodded. “How long ago?”
“Three weeks. She had actually been with another adopted family first, but that relationship ended in an ugly mess within six weeks of her time with them. So Denver was Kona’s second home.”
“So, long enough to bond, but not enough to bond well, given her new life now too.”
“Depends on the circumstances, as you know,” Geir said. “Some situations create immediate bonding.”
“But those are usually the ugly situations,” Greyson said. “Danger, strife, violence, or something along that line.” Greyson chuckled. “I think I can handle this one.”
Geir looked at him, grinned, and said, “So is that a yes?”
Greyson nodded. “Mission accepted.”